


A Cat in Need

by Maeve_of_Winter



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Cats, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Mistaken Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-08 17:45:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19475572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maeve_of_Winter/pseuds/Maeve_of_Winter
Summary: Ransom comes across this dude, who's obviously a lacrosse bro, trying to rescue a stray kitten. So he decides to help him out.Obviously, he's a lax bro. Who else would this guy be?





	A Cat in Need

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rhysiana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhysiana/gifts).



> Thanks to everyone reading! If you ever want to chat, here's my [Tumblr](http://maeve-of-winter.tumblr.com/). I love discussion and hearing people's thoughts, so feel free to submit headcanons, fic ideas, or just talk about Kent!

Goddamn, it was hot. Ransom was already unbuttoning his shirt as he trudged back to the Haus, pausing only to wipe away the beads of sweat trickling down his forehead with his carried suit jacket. He’d removed both it and his tie almost as soon as he’d walked out of the biology dean’s office. Today was possibly the worst day of the semester to get stuck in formal wear, with the combination of heat and humidity forcing the temperature up to eighty-eight degrees—fairly unseasonable for late April. 

But at least it had been worth it. He’d nailed this final round of the three interviews and had really seemed to connect with the two members of the research team he’d met. With any luck, that summer internship would be his.

Far too tired and sweaty to contemplate spending another moment beneath the blazing sun, Ransom made the expedient decision to cut through the lawns of several other student houses to get to the backyard of the actual Haus. Most of the trespassing would be across the lawn of girls’ soccer house, anyway, and he knew a few of them from his study group. They were cool; he was sure they wouldn’t mind.

He was just enjoying the walk in the welcome shade, a weight off his shoulders now that the interview was out of the way, when he rounded the corner of the Haus’s ramshackle back porch, tripped over someone’s extended leg, and was sent sprawling to the ground.

“Jesus fuck!” Ransom yelped as he crashed down onto the dirt.

“Sorry,” whoever it was apologized. “I didn’t hear you coming.”

“It’s fine,” Ransom groaned automatically, rolling over onto his side and pushing himself up into a sitting position. He grimaced briefly as he glimpsed the grass stains on his elbows and knees, and then swiveled to look at the person he tripped over.

It was a blond guy, about his age, dressed in a simple black V-neck and faded jeans, crouched with one knee on the grass. He was very good-looking, Ransom couldn’t help but notice, and he was sure that he’d seen him before. Possibly he was one of the Chads from the lax house? Ransom couldn’t be sure; those guys all looked alike. But he felt like there was a strong chance. And the guy looked like a Chad, too, muscley but slim with narrow hips and shoulders. Definitely not built for the rigors of hockey. Too short and too skinny.

“So, like, not to be rude,” Ransom began skeptically, “but just what the hell are you doing?”

Probably A Chad took the question in stride. “There’s a cat under there,” he said, indicating the maybe six-inch gap between the ground and the base of the porch. “I’m trying to get it out. I think it might be stuck,” he added, a hint of a worry pinching his features.

“Huh,” Ransom said, dropping to his knees again. He already had grass stains, after all. “Is there really?” Lying down to be level with the ground, he tilted his head to see underneath the porch, just barely managing to discern the vague outline of a very small cat and a large pair of gleaming yellow eyes. “Huh, I think it’s a kitten!”

“Never seen one of those in real life before,” Probably A Chad commented, leading Ransom to look at him in disbelief—because, like, really?—before trying to think of the problem logically.

“If it’s a kitten under there, then it’s pretty small, and it shouldn’t have any problem crawling out on its own if it really wants to,” he reasoned. “Have you tried using some kind of bait to lure the little guy out?”

Probably A Chad shook his head. “My resources are kind of limited right now,” he admitted. 

That probably meant he had caviar back at the lax house but didn’t want to waste it on a lowly stray. Ransom managed to refrained from rolling his eyes as he hauled himself to his feet and started for the Haus’s back door, kind of excited in spite of himself.

“Wait here,” he told Probably A Chad. “I have an idea.”

Racing through the door and into the kitchen, Ransom rummaged through a few of the cupboards before giving a fist pump of victory as he found of one of Jack’s cans of Chicken of the Sea. (Tuna salad was one of his favorite foods. Weirdo.) After several moments of searching for the can opener, he finally spotted it on top of the fridge just when he was about to give up. Open tuna can in hand, he then jogged outside, not even minding the heat this time, to where Probably A Chad was waiting.

“Hey, that’s really smart, bro,” Probably A Chad said admiringly as Ransom set down the tuna can on the ground about a foot from the edge of the porch. He clapped Ransom on the shoulder and let his hand remain there for several moments. “I don’t know if I ever would have thought of that.”

“Oh, it’s, uh, no problem,” Justin replied, turning to offer him a smile. He was surprised but flattered at what seemed like an honest compliment.

And wow, the guy was really good-looking. Like, pretty boy-kind of good-looking. Plus, his eyes were really bright and noticeable, some blue-green shade that was flecked with gold.

Suddenly oddly conscious of the contact between himself and Probably A Chad, Ransom could have sworn his skin was tingling at his touch. Damn, it was a nice feeling, and he couldn’t help but want more of it.

“We should probably stand back,” Ransom suggested, oh-so-casually grasping Probably A Chad’s arm and pulling him several steps backward. “That way the kitten doesn’t feel scared.” 

He let his hand remain there for several seconds longer than necessary—damn, he was smooth. He couldn’t wait to tell Holster about this later. As long as he explained that the guy’s hotness outweighed him likely being a Chad, of course. 

Probably A Chad was too busy watching the porch to pay attention to Ransom. “Oh, look,” he breathed, with the awe of a wildlife field researcher finally seeing their life’s work come to fruition and make contact with the animal they’d been tracking for decades. “There it is!”

Snapping his gaze back to the porch, Ransom watched as a tiny kitten wiggled out from beneath the porch and scanned the area to check for threats. Its huge eyes lingered for a moment on the two of them, but then it evidently decided that they weren’t too much of a risk, and began chowing down on the tuna.

Probably A Chad practically melted at the sight. “Oh, look at it!” he said, a charmed smile tugging at his lips. “The little guy is really cute!”

Chad was cute, too, Ransom observed yet again, and man, did he have a nice smile. But the kitten, with its very fluffy light gray and white coat and large ears far too big for its tiny head, was quite cute as well.

“Adorable,” Ransom agreed, almost melting himself when Probably A Chad turned his radiant smile in his direction.

Slowly, cautiously Probably A Chad inched forward until he was within an arm’s reach of the kitten, who turned to look up at him questioningly, not seeming afraid in the slightest. And with no resistance whatsoever from the miniscule animal, Probably A Chad simply scooped him up from the ground and cuddled him close to his face.

Immediately, the biology student in Ransom took over. “Careful!” he warned. “You don’t know where it’s been! It could have germs! Or fleas,” he added as an afterthought. 

“It probably does,” Probably A Chad admitted, but then he was distracted by the kitten nuzzling against him. “Oh, look, he likes me!” he said, grinning at Ransom.

Even with his concerns about the kitten’s hygiene, Ransom had to admit that the pair looked pretty damn adorable together.

“He does,” he acknowledged, smiling at the two of them. “So, what happens now? You gonna take him back to the lax house?”

“‘Lax house’?” Probably A Chad echoed, looking bewildered and tilting his head at Ransom. The kitten mimicked his movements. “Er, no. I don’t actually go to school here. But I am gonna take this little guy home with me, if you don’t mind. Actually,” he glanced at his watch, which Ransom noticed for the first was rather large and flashy and expensive-looking, “I should probably get going. My car’s out front,” he said, motioning toward the Haus.

Ransom reeled back in surprise. Probably A Chad wasn’t a Chad at all? How could his inherent lax bro sense have been so wrong? And if he wasn’t a Chad, then who the hell was this guy, and why was Ransom so sure he’d seen him before?

“I’ll walk with you,” Ransom volunteered, falling into step alongside Definitely Not A Chad and wondering if there was a polite way of asking just who exactly he was and what had he been doing at the Haus before the kitten-rescuing commenced.

Maybe it was the sweltering weather affecting his brain, but he found himself struggling to come up with a way that didn’t sound completely rude. And, like, the last thing he wanted to get all confrontational with this super hot guy who spent his spare time helping baby animals in need.

“So, are you, uh, thinking about going to Samwell, then?” Ransom finally managed to ask, proud of himself for coming up with a question that was both polite and a good topic of discussion for the two of them. Hey, maybe if the guys said yes, then Ransom could offer him a personal tour. Spending more time with him was totally worth spending more time in the heat.

Definitely Not A Chad laughed as they rounded the corner into the Haus’s front yard. “Me? In college? No. Not really in the cards.”

 _Oof._ Ransom hoped he hadn’t put his foot in his mouth with that question. Not going to college could be a sore point with some people. 

He tried to think of a way to revive their flatlining conversation, but before he could, his gaze landed on the futuristic-looking golden and black Lamborghini slung alongside the sidewalk right in front of the Haus. Both hockey players and lax bros surrounded the car in a rare moment of peace between the two groups, united in their admiration.

Just as Ransom’s mind made the connection between Definitely Not A Chad and the car, the former handed him a phone. 

“Go ahead and enter your number,” Definitely Not A Chad encouraged him. “I can text you updates about how this guy is doing,” he said, scratching the kitten’s ears as it preened at his attention.

Ransom did so, even including his Twitter handle, the whole situation now seeming even more surreal than before. His eyes kept sliding back from the hot blond stranger to the car, wondering yet again just who he was.

He handed the phone back to Definitely Not A Chad, who glanced at the name he’d entered and then grinned at him. 

“Justin,” he said, as if trying the name out on his tongue. 

And damn if Ransom didn’t like the way it sounded coming out of his mouth. 

“It suits you,” Definitely Not A Chad said decisively, looking at Ransom with those pretty eyes of his. “Well, I’ve got to get going. Thank you for helping me today, Justin.”

With that, he leaned in gave Ransom a light kiss on the cheek before heading off toward the car, cuddling the kitten in one hand and pulling his keys out of the pocket of his jeans with the other. Ransom simply stood there, stunned, watching him go.

That was, until Holster sprinted out of the house and practically tackled him to the ground.

“Bro, did that really just happen?” he demanded, shaking Ransom by the shoulders. “Did Kent Parson really just kiss you?”

“I—what—let go of me!” Ransom sputtered, his brain in overdrive as he absorbed the new information. “Wait—that’s Kent Parson? That kid is Kent Parson? Like, NHL Kent Parson?”

“Uh, yeah,” Holster retorted, swiveling Ransom over so they could watch as the other athletes backed away from the car as Kent Parson approached and unlocked the door. 

With one hand, Parson reached into the car, grabbed an Aces’ snapback, and donned it backwards just using one hand. Spotting Ransom watching him, he gave him a smile and wave, the doubtlessly expensive watch on his wrist glinting in the sun. Then he climbed in and started the engine, the Lamborghini purring to life amidst various _oohs_ and _aahs_ from the assembled students, before roaring off down the campus street.

“Oh, he’s gonna get a ticket driving like that,” Ransom predicted, his anxiety spiking at the thought.

Holster gave him a hearty shake. “Forget him getting a ticket! Did you get his number?”

“Why would I have?” Ransom protested. He still couldn’t believe that the dude he’d tripped over wasn’t a Chad but _Kent fucking Parson_. First overall draft pick of 2009 Kent Parson. Captain of the Las Vegas Aces Kent Parson. _Stanley Cup winner Kent Parson._

Holster rolled his eyes at him and tossed his hands up in the air. “Why? Because he was obviously into you! He kissed you!”

“As a way of saying thanks!” Ransom argued. “He wanted to thank me! I helped him rescue that kitten.”

Holy fuck. He’d helped Kent Parson rescue a kitten.

“Ugh, you got no game. No game at all.” Holster shook his head in disgust, though he still eyed him kind of hopefully. “Did you at least get his autograph?”

“I had no idea whatsoever who he was until you told,” Ransom admitted. “I mean, I didn’t even think he was a hockey player. He _does not_ look like a hockey player. I mean, fuck me, I totally thought he was a Chad.” 

“Yeah, he really doesn’t look like a hockey player at all,” Holster agreed. A new approval filled his face as he looked at Ransom. “Good on you, bro. Helping a guy out even though you thought he was a Chad.” 

“Thanks,” Ransom said, grinning at his friend. “But helping rescue kittens is its own reward.” A thought occurred to him then. “Oh, hey, you know what? I didn’t get his number, but he asked for mine. And I gave it to him.” 

Holster’s bushy blond eyebrows almost lifted off his forehead. “He did? Damn. You think he’s gonna call?”

Ransom looked down the street where Kent Parson’s Lamborghini had zoomed off. “I really don’t know,” he admitted, even as a wild fantasy of striking up some kind of hockey league-transcending bromance with Kent Parson filled his head. 

“Guess you’ll see,” Holster said, clapping him on the back. 

Ransom put an arm around his shoulders. Even if Kent Parson never texted him at all, dashing all dreams of potential bromance, that was fine. Holster was all the bro he needed, anyway.

But just a few days later, when Ransom was celebrating being selected for the internship and both of them were celebrating the end of finals, a very official-looking padded envelope arrived that Ransom needed to sign for, with the sender listed as none other than Kent Parson.

“Aw, look at this!” Holster enthused, scanning the letter. “He says thanks again and that the kitten is actually a girl and that he’s naming her Kitt Purrson. Oh, and look, he included a picture of them together!” He held up a photo of Parson, in an Aces T-shirt, holding Kit, who was wearing a small Aces collar. “I bet he had that collar custom-made.”

But Ransom was too busy gaping at the other items enclosed in the envelope: two tickets to the first game of the Stanley Cup playoffs, the one that was going to take place right there in Boston just three weeks later.

“Take a look at these,” he said to Holster, his voice hushed with reverence.

When he glimpsed the tickets, for a few seconds Holster looked like he’d been smacked in the face with a frying pan. Then he snatched up the letter again, his gaze roving over the words frantically.

“ ‘P.S.,’ ” he read aloud. “ ‘Thought you and your friend might want to catch a hockey game sometime. Feel free to root for the Bruins if you want, not really because you go to school in Boston, because I deeply admire their determination to stop rookie hazing.’ ” Lifting his gaze from the paper, he stared at Ransom. “Wow, he doesn’t even mind if we root for the Bruins.”

“I can’t believe it,” Ransom said, gazing at the tickets in awe. He looked back at Holster. “Well, I guess we know now that he really was grateful for the help I gave him.”

“Clearly.” Holster nodded his head, still wide-eyed. “And to think you thought he was a Chad.”

Still staring at the tickets in disbelief, a warmer, stronger feeling of fondness began to overwhelm Ransom’s utter amazement. Maybe Kent Parson truly was a bro, after all. Maybe this letter was truly the start of something.

* * *

**Epilogue - Five Years Later**

When Ransom pulled his truck into the driveway, opened the door and climbed down, he could already smell the chiminea smoke in the air. Knowing that it meant Kent was waiting for him in the backyard, his favorite spot to relax during the nighttime, he skipped the front door and circled around to the garden gate, where he punched in the key code to let himself in.

He found Kent there on the back patio, stretched out on the outdoor double chaise lounge and tapping away on his laptop. Kitt was there as well, snoozing in her cat hammock, though it was probably only a matter of time before she took advantage of the evening shadows to stalk prey amidst the dense plants that lined the tall garden walls.

When he heard his approach, Kent glanced up from his laptop, an enormous smile spreading across his face as his eyes landed on Ransom. 

“Welcome home,” he said warmly, setting aside his laptop and scooching over on the chaise lounge for Ransom to sit, even though there was plenty of room. “How did it go? Are you going to get the funding?”

Ransom returned his smile, unable to stop from puffing up proudly a bit. “You are now looking at the leading graduate student researcher of his program for tracking the migration patterns of desert bighorn sheep,” he told Kent, victory surging through his veins as he spoke. “I’ll be on the project for the next eighteen months.”

“Congratulations!” Kent said, throwing his arms around Ransom in a hug. “I knew you’d be able to win them over. With your wit and charm, there’s nothing you aren’t capable of.”

“Credit where credit is due,” Ransom replied dryly. “I had some good lessons from a guy who knows everything about how to thoroughly charm people.” 

Kent preened a bit at the acknowledgement, and Ransom took a moment to revel in the feeling of the warmth of Kent’s body pressing against his, admiring for the umpteenth time how well Kent’s slimmer frame tucked into his own more muscular one. And that same irrepressible happiness that surfaced whenever Kent complimented or smiled at him was spreading through his chest. God, he loved quiet moments like these, when it was just the two of them together, enjoying each other’s company.

Closing his eyes, Ransom almost got to take a moment to simply relax and draw in pleasure from the simple contact with his boyfriend, but he was interrupted by a noticeable weight suddenly landing on his thigh and a furry nose sniffing at his jacket pocket.

“Kitt,” he groaned in protest, opening his eyes and looking somewhat exasperatedly at the huge maine coon who was eyeing him impatiently. Then it occurred to him. “Oh, I bet you want those treats I picked up for you. The bakery right by campus just started stocking homemade cat and dog treats,” he added to Kent.

“She’ll get spoiled,” Kent warned him, even as he reached out to scratch Kitt’s ears.

Ransom snorted. “Uh, I think it might be a little bit late for that,” he remarked, extracting the cat treat and using it to gesture at the cat hammock just a few feet away. “And besides, she is the one who brought us together. She should always be rewarded for that.” He laid a gentle kiss on Kent’s forehead.

“Mmm, true,” Kent agreed, closing his eyes and snuggling against Ransom. 

Eyes fixed on the treat, Kitt tried to jump up and snatch it from Ransom’s fingers, but couldn’t achieve the necessary lift. Rolling his eyes about what an utter glutton their cat was, Ransom relented and offered her the treat, chuckling when she yanked it out of his open hand and ran off into the shadows of the climbing vines. 

A thought stirred in Ransom’s mind as he watched her go, and he turned back to Kent, looking at him contemplatively.

“You ever wonder what would’ve happened that day if I’d stopped to talk to someone and hadn’t taken that shortcut and met you?” he asked. More than a few times, he’d lingered on the what-ifs of the situation, marvelling at how easily they could have missed each other and never been any the wiser.

Kent opened his eyes, looking at him pensively. “Or if Jack hadn’t screamed at me and instead talked to me like a rational human. Then I wouldn’t have rushed out the back door, and I never would have heard Kitt meowing from underneath that porch.”

Ransom nodded, grinning slightly. “Thank God for Jack, freaking out on you, huh?”

“It gave me two of the most important things in my life, all in one day,” Kent admitted, nuzzling into Ransom’s neck affectionately before leaning back to look at him with a mischievous grin. “Can you imagine us inviting him to our wedding and one of us telling the story of how we met in a speech? Jack would get all the credit for being a matchmaker. I bet he’d be _thrilled._ ”

Instantly, Ransom’s heart started racing at what Kent had said about them having a wedding, so much so that he couldn’t even concentrate on the surely hilarious expression of mixed confusion and contempt that would have been on Jack’s face during the described scenario. 

“You—uh—you think about us getting married?” he blurted out, too surprised and elated to try for any kind of tact.

Because recently his mom had passed on a pair of wedding rings to him that she’d inherited from her grandparents after she’d already gotten married. And Ransom hadn’t put them to use yet, obviously, but they were sitting in the old-fashioned box they came in on the top shelf of his closet, so maybe—maybe— 

For a second, Kent froze as it seemed to register with him exactly what he’d said. But then he seemed to force himself to relax and spoke again, his voice entirely too casual. 

“Well, yeah. I mean, it’s a possibility. One of our many possible futures,” he said, watching Ransom carefully to monitor his reaction. “But, uh, yeah. I’d be into it.”

Ransom just grinned, pulling Kent close again and wrapping his arms around him tightly. “I’m glad you think so,” he replied, some of his excitement slipping into his voice.

Yeah, Ransom thought, grinning, Kent curled up against him and Kitt hopping up onto the lounge again to do the same, he was definitely going to put those rings to good use.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone reading! If you ever want to chat, here's my [Tumblr](http://maeve-of-winter.tumblr.com/). I love discussion and hearing people's thoughts, so feel free to submit headcanons, fic ideas, or just talk about Kent!


End file.
